Overreacting
by wff-writer
Summary: A gift gone wrong.  rated for language only
1. Chapter 1

Title: Overreacting  
>Author: wff-writerlilsister2  
>Pairings: DerekStiles  
>Word Count: 2023 (Weak! I know)<p>

Summary: A gift gone wrong  
>AN: Right. so. You can take this as a sequel to "Damn Dogs", but I hadn't intended to continue that one. I wanted it to stand on its own, but all the "this story has been added to this author's alert list" made me really want to write something. So thank you all who read it and take it as you will. Also, this one has a lot of vague little excerpts. I intend to do little oneshots that will add onto this one.  
>Oh and I totally got the idea for this from AngstyDevil who creates a wolfhunter chess set for his story _Things I hate About You_, ch. 5. Go read it! It's radical! Now, onward my friends.

Overreacting

"You're overreacting Derek!" Stiles had shown up at Derek's place, pounded on the door until the wolf had reluctantly yanked it open and proceeded to invoke Derek's wrath. The rumbling thunder coming from deep in Derek's throat could be heard a few miles deep into the forest.

Dropping his hand and sore knuckles, Stiles raised an eyebrow and huffed out, "You know the whole growling thing is starting to get old."

For better or for worse, Stiles figured that would grant him entrance, but boy was he wrong. As soon as he had finished his verbal slap, he'd gotten a physical one from Derek slamming the door in his face.

Rubbing his nose he jostled the door handle to find it locked. "DEREK! Open the Damn! Door!" Stiles really had the urge to kick the door down, but considering he was aiming to stay on first string, he didn't want to lessen those chances by breaking his foot; but then again, with an old shabby, half burnt house like this, he might just be able to… nah, he had a better idea. Besides, the place seemed pretty frikkin sturdy for having been through a fire.

As he kept yelling for Derek to open the door and half heartedly tapping it with his foot, he dug into his pockets and fished out his wallet. Quickly he maneuvered out a small silver object. "AH! My Precious." Stiles jabbed the key into the hole and flung the door open with more force than necessary.

Triumphantly stepping in, the boy found himself staring at an obviously surprised and somewhat confused werewolf that quickly turned to a suspicion and annoyed werewolf. "I thought I took that back from you…." No reply. "Oh forget it." Exhausted, Derek turned to ignore the intruder and instead headed into the kitchen. As he figured, Stiles was right behind him.

"Come on Man. It was just a joke." No response. Well, a response in kind, but not the one Stiles was looking for. Derek took out of his fridge a six pack minus one, of some irregular brand of soda he made sure not to learn the name of and walked over to the sink. Stiles peered at him cautiously but made no move. It was dangerous to lose your footing around werewolves. The more experienced ones took advantage of every weakness. Stiles opted instead for using words. "What are you doing with my Ooba?"

With a blank expression, Derek turned sideways and still looking at Stiles, held the cans over the sink and punctured each one in the absolute center of the underside of the cans. The liquid ran smooth and even all the way down the drain. All Stiles could think, even off his adderall, was, _well that was new, _but that wasn't going to stop him from coming up with something to say. "Yea, real mature Derek. Real Mature." hmm.. Maybe he should have taken a couple seconds to think that one over, because the next thing he knew, 5 empty cans were being hurled rather quickly towards his head. He dropped out of the way, barley missing an aluminum collision. From the floor he watched as Derek strode out of the kitchen towards the living room, a smug satisfied look on his face.

"Seriously Overreacting!" Stiles screamed to the empty air. Of course Derek would hear. Even a non supernatural creature with super duper hearing would hear that. He just hoped that said super duper hearing would make him hear it all the more and give him a splitting head ache.

Even if he knew that Derek knew that the cans wouldn't do any real damage, throwing shit at boyfriends just to scare them wasn't cool. It was almost as bad as the head-jutting intimidation tactic… Not.. Cool.

However, this would not deter Stiles. He would get forgiveness even if he had to force it out of the older man; or at least for him not to be angry anymore. He'd take either one. Shit, he'd take Derek being slightly annoyed rather than his current state. Who'd have known he'd get this angry over a joke. Who'd have known he could GET this angry.

It really wasn't Stiles' intention to piss the wolf off. Well, he didn't really know what his intention was, all he could recall was that before he'd had a second to rethink what he was doing, it had been done. It was like he'd done it on impulse. Derek had impulses. Albeit werewolf impulses, but impulses none the less. He should be able to understand where Stiles was coming from. That was the theory but of course he hadn't.

He'd drove by the shop many times. It had never held any interest for him before; a simple shop among many on his route home from school. But today something had caught his eye, something shiny and round. HA! He couldn't help turning mid intersection, jumping the curb, and almost hitting a small silver sports car to swing into the shops front parking lot.

He ignored the agitated screams of a familiar voice and ventured into the store. He was out in less than 10 minutes. He'd have probably been a little more pleased if he hadn't almost been bitten by the Chihuahua that was so stealthily hidden in the purse of the lady purchasing dog food in front of him. He thought about petitioning the town's Council to require people to have licenses for concealed rats.

He'd gone straight home and waited eagerly for an expected night time visit. 6: 30, a microwaved pizza sandwich. 6:49, a second pizza sandwich. 7:08, research on werewolf lore's. 7:52, a crooked smile at "The Mating Rituals of Teen Wolves*". 8:35, a dose of adderall. 8:36, another dose. 8:36.23, an unnecessary third dose.

He was getting impatient. Really impatient. So he went to his last resort, homework. About two hours later, with most of his work done, a dark, silhouetted figure crouched in through the permanently opened window unbeknownst to the room's only occupant. After a few minutes of simply watching, he made his way over to the boy and peered over the top of his head. Chemistry. Hmm. He was still mixing up the chemical formulas for glucose and fructose. Putting his hands on either side of Stile's on his desk, he spoke, "It's C6H1206. I've told you that before." The reaction, although expected, still required Derek to remove his hands and give the jumpy teenager a little room to flail.

"Derek! Whoa Dude! Seriously, don't scare me like that." Stiles had stood up and turned around abruptly, knocking the chair into the man behind him, who proceeded to act unphased and simply push it out of the way. He moved forward, and without hesitation, grabbed the boy by the waist and hoisted him up onto the desk, kissing him fiercely. Stiles responded just as eagerly, but refused to be completely manhandled and fought for dominance against the far more muscular body flushed up against his own. Of course he would lose, but he could at least say he tried.

As Derek began to lift Stiles shirt, he broke for air and held him off for a few seconds. "Hey, I bought you something today." That managed to still the man. He quirked an eyebrow and stared for a few seconds before speaking. "Why?" Stiles surprised expression was accompanied by a small laugh. As he used Derek's right should for leverage, he reached over into his desk drawer and pulled out a small purple bag. "You know, that's not usually what people say when they hear they're getting a present." Derek just watched as the boy righted himself between the beta's legs and held out the gift.

"You're color choices are getting more ridiculous by the day."  
>"Just open it." Stiles shoved the bag at Derek's chest who took it reluctantly and peered inside.<br>What happened next, might explain his current situation, or at least show how it started.  
>Without looking up Derek's whole demeanor changed in an instant and his next words were laced with anger. "Are you serious?"<p>

With nowhere to go, Stiles leaned back and tried to keep his throat out of the reach of sharp k-nines. "Y-you don't like it?" Derek took a step back, opened his mouth, and promptly shut it. He did this a couple more times before he found his words. "Are you seriously kidding me right now?" Stiles thought carefully, any wrong move, or word, could cause the situation to take a turn for the worse. .. Another, turn.. for the worse..

"Yes?" He hadn't meant that to sound so uncertain. Derek narrowed his eyes and took a few more steps back. "That was a question stiles.. Not-a-statement!" The last bit he rushed out without a breath in between. He turned sideways and took a few steps. Then back the other way, and again the original way.

Was Derek… pacing? Holy Crap. Well damn, Stiles knew he was in deep shit now. He tried to reconcile, "Hey-".

"Stiles! You.. You better.. You think this is funny, don't you?" Derek was pointing his index finger very firmly in Stiles direction.

"Who me? No. Not me. Absolutely and incredibly unfunny. It's an insult to comedy. It would be rude to call this funny." Gesticulating didn't seem to help much, but to guard himself from a possible attack.

Derek stepped forward causing Stiles to flinch. He stopped mid track. "I'm leaving." And with that, he was gone. Stiles hadn't even realized he'd still been seated on his desk untill he had to hop down to reach his window. He flung half his body out and yelled to a retreating figure in the surrounding forest. "Oh come on Derek! Don't overreact!" In a couple seconds the figure could no longer be seen. Stiles slumped on his window sill knocking his forehead against the wood beneath it. "Crap."

He truly hadn't meant to make Derek angry. He'd only bought it because it reminded him of Derek. It seemed to suite him. But even if it had, he probably should have taken Derek's feelings into account.. Wait? Derek? Feelings? Did those two words even go into the same sentence? He figured an angel lost its wings every time they did.

Coming back from memory lane, he heaved himself off Derek's kitchen floor and wandered around until he found his partner in the back Den. He was sitting at one of the desks facing the entrance, reading something, maybe the newspaper, maybe a magazine. Stiles couldn't tell. "Hey, I'm sorry, ok?" Derek lifted his gaze to meet Stiles'. "What, you gonna buy me a squeaky toy next?" He made his way over to the chair in front of the desk and plopped himself down. "If you want one." Derek's expression remained annoyed. "Ok.. Sorry." Stiles looked down and refused to meet Derek's eyes this time. "At least it had spikes." At that, Derek let out an exasperated sigh and started to leave the room. "Spikes don't make it manly Stiles! They make it what it is!"

Stiles followed after quickly, "Hey! Hey hey! My bad okay. I'm not trying to fight, I just say things sometimes without think-". Stopping dead in his tracks, Stiles watched as Derek sat down on his couch at the far right side, he braced his elbow on the arm rest and leaned his face into his palm while grabbing the remote to switch on the T.V. with his other hand. But what had stopped Stiles wasn't the calm that had suddenly overtook his boyfriend, but what lay in front of him on the coffee table. Attached to Derek's keys was a collar made from black fabric that had small metal spikes going around the outside of it.

He hadn't even realized Derek had taken it with him the other night. As a smile crept it's way onto Stiles face he took his place next to his lover and picked up the keys. As he leaned into Derek's chest he flicked the one individual silver bell that had actually made him choose that one. "Nice Lanyard." The channel changed twice. "Shut up."

*This is actually a story by TheNowandFutureQueen. You must check it out. Too good to not read.


	2. Chapter 2

Title:  
>Author: wff-writerlilsister2  
>Pairings: Sterek<br>Rating: T?  
>Word Count: 297<p>

Summary: What once was, shall be no more… orrr, Derek takes back his key. Sneakily.

A/N: I've had this forever, and couldn't, for the life of me, write any more. Not to fit with this piece at least. I will eventually. And it'll probably be a hell of a lot easier now that I don't have to jigsaw it to this. ANYYYWAYYYSSS. Fuck my life if I don't write something 5000+ by the end of this semester. Seriously! This fits on one flippin page! *Sigh*…I suck..  
>Please read, it'll take you all of 2 minutes. -'_-'<p>

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf. It belongs to the ludicrous and seriously sadistic Jeff Davis.

**Who Ever Said Werewolves Were Fair**

"You're the one who gave me the key!" It wasn't fair. It had only been a couple months since he'd received it. And if the unwritten rules were followed, you couldn't take back a key unless you were breaking up, and they certainly weren't breaking up, so Derek was breaking the rules and that meant unfairness.

"Yes, but that doesn't warrant you to invade my house all hours of the night." Derek didn't seem to care about being fair or rules for that matter. However, Stiles was determined.  
>He tried, "what about all hours of the day?" and then received his name on a loud and somehow contradicting deep note, causing him to jump just a bit and respond rather quickly and shakily. "W-what?!"<p>

Derek held out his hand to stiles like he was expecting to receive gold. "…Key." Stiles couldn't believe he was serious. He really wanted the key back. He really wanted to be an ass like that. Well screw him.

"No." Stiles stated it as defiantly as possible. He clasped his hands behind himself and started backing up slowly. Derek started forward, "Stiles,".  
>Still backing away, Stiles playfully added, "If you want it, you'll have to come get it."<br>Derek caught on quick enough. "You think I won't?" He stalked towards Stiles with a predatorial glint to his eyes, and with a sinister smirk to match, Stiles chirped out, "Oh contraire sir, but I know you will."

Soon after, clothes were hastily discarded, a creaky queen sized bed almost broke from a repetitive rocking motion, a shower was thought twice of and then decided against, and amidst all this; a sliver of silver was unknowingly exchanged possessors.  
>In the end this is what caused Stiles to pout all morning without a hint of submission from his partner.<p> 


End file.
